Conversations
by Saimhe
Summary: A series of conversations between Sam and Ainsley. Takes place after Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail" Was written March of 2001.
1. Late Night Conversations

Sam set the receiver in place, leaned back and simply stared at the phone. The brief conversation with his father had helped - some. He was still hurt and angry, not to mention disappointed. His world still felt tilted on its axis. But the edge was gone. He'd begun to resign himself to accepting it. 

Pushing back in his chair, he noticed the red light on his phone indicating a voice mail message was lit. His first impulse to ignore it was quickly overruled by his sense of responsibility. Hastily, he accessed the system, tapped in his extension, password and menu codes to access new messages. 

_"Hey Sam. It's Ainsley. I just called, well, I . . I called to see if you were okay. I heard about your father and I saw you down in the cafeteria earlier, and well, I didn't know if you'd want to see me. I just wanted to see if you were okay. I know it's not really my place, but if there is anything I can do, I'm here."_

He sat there amazed, just staring at the phone. She was worried about him; he could hear it clearly in her voice, along with the uncertainty. 

Glancing at the clock, he figured she was long gone by now. 

"I should probably call her anyway, leave her a voicemail," he explained to himself as he pulled out his Rolodex. "I wouldn't want her to think I didn't appreciate her concern or anything," he justified as he lifted the receiver and tapped in her extension. 

"Ainsley Hayes." 

Sam was startled to hear the tired, drained voice of the actual person and not the standard pre-recorded greeting. 

"Ainsley? What are you still doing here?" 

"Sam? You know, I could ask you that same question?" 

Sam smiled against the phone at how the amusement seemed to put life back into her voice. 

"I wanted to make a call before leaving to join Josh, Toby and Donna." 

"You wanted to call me, at this hour, before joining Josh, Toby and Donna?" 

Sam sighed while leaning back into his chair, his hand unconsciously twisting the phone cord. 

"No, actually, I called my father. I saw the message light as I was leaving and thought I should leave you a message, so you know, you wouldn't think I didn't appreciate it or anything." 

The silence seemed to drag out before he heard her say in a quiet voice, "I wouldn't have thought that, Sam. Really." 

"I'm glad," he answered, "Ainsley, you never answered my question." 

"Question?" She sounded honestly perplexed. 

"Why are you still here at this hour?" 

"Oh, just had to finish some reviews for the OPA." 

"Why don't you just pack it in for the night and go home. I am sure it can wait until Monday. Better yet, why don't you come with me? This might be your best chance to see what a fool I can make out of myself when totally drunk." 

"Drunk?" 

"Yeah, Josh and Toby are determined to get me drunk and then make sure I go home and sleep in my own bed." 

"Your own bed, as opposed to . . ." 

Sam paused, the sighed. "The couch in Toby's office." 

"Sam!" 

"Ainsley, I don't really want to talk about it." His voice sounded weary, even to his own ears. 

"Okay Sam, but if you do, you know, later. I'm available." 

"Thanks. So, you are coming?" 

Sam heard her slight groan over the phone and smiled, amused. 

"I can't, Sam. I really should finish this. I really don't want to have it hanging over my head all weekend. You should get going. I'm sure your friends are waiting." 

"Okay, I guess I should go then. Bye." 

"Good Night, Sam." 

"Ainsley, wait!" 

"Sam?" 

"I, well, thank you, really." 

"You don't have to thank me Sam." 

"Yes I do. You were concerned, and that means a lot to me." 

"Sam, it wasn't too long ago that I needed a friend, remember? You put everything aside and were that friend. And you've continued to be my friend." 

"You make it easy, Ainsley. I like being with you." Sam paused for a moment, "What are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking of maybe renting a few movies and getting some takeout. Nothing fancy. I just want to avoid the world for a while. I could use some the company of a friend?" 

The line grew silent again and Sam could almost visualize Ainsley biting her lower lip. 

"I'd like that, Sam, on one condition. Let me make dinner for us." 

"I think the last time I had food that didn't come frozen was at Thanksgiving. All right, you have a deal. I'll call you in the morning?" 

"Okay. Sam?" 

"Yeah?" 

He listened to the sound of her breathing quietly, "Nothing. I'll talk to you tomorrow. You should go meet your friends before they start to worry." 

"Probably. Goodnight, Ainsley. Don't work too long, okay?" 

"Okay. Night, Sam." 

He waited until he heard the click as the connection closed. Smiling, he replaced the receiver. 

Shrugging on his coat, he made his way out of the West Wing; he felt like his world was finally beginning to right itself again. Tomorrow was beginning to look like it might be a really good day after all. 


	2. MidMorning Conversations

It was the incessant ringing of her phone that threatened to pull her from the warm, content, relaxed indulgence that was sleep. Then, it was the annoying sound of her voice on the pre-recorded answering machine message. Finally, it was the amused, yet slightly melancholy sound of Sam's voice that pulled her from her sleep-induced haze. Or rather, the thrill that ran through her when she heard his voice. Reaching over, she grabbed her phone and cut off the offending machine.

"Hello?" 

"Ainsley?" 

"Morning Sam. What time is it?" 

Pulling herself into a half-sitting position, she fumbled to locate her alarm clock on the nightstand. 

"Around 11 am. I woke you?" 

"Yeah, it's okay. How are you?" Giving up her search for the clock, she snuggled back down into bed, content to just listen to his voice and too tired to worry about the implications. 

"Aside from a moderate headache, I'm okay, which is surprising considering that most of last night is a blur." 

Ainsley chuckled softly. Sam sounded more like the man she knew, which meant his night out with his friends had done its job. 

"Yeah, well, I bet you didn't eat anything yesterday, did you? Alcohol went straight to your head." Her words were slightly mumbled from her semi-awake state. With her eyes closed, she could visualize the amused expression she was sure was on Sam's face. The image of his lips curled like he was trying not to smile and the amused fleck in his eyes caused her heart to flip in her chest. 

" . . . are you still up for today? Cause if you would rather cancel and get some rest, I would understand." 

His hesitant words finally seeped into her clouded mind. He sounded sad and unsure of himself and her heart swelled with the desire to take care of him, to be a haven for him away from all the things that hurt him. 

"Sam, what's wrong?" She pulled herself into a fully upright position in bed, her heart rate increased slightly with concern. 

"Nothing. It's just . . I . ." 

Hearing his frustrated sigh, Ainsley changed tactics. 

"Come over, Sam. I'll jump in the shower and should be dressed and mostly finished by the time you get here. We can talk then, figure out dinner and everything, okay?" 

Ainsley anxiously waited through the moment of silence on the phone, hoping she hadn't read him wrong. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll be over in a few minutes. Thanks, Ains." 

Did he just call her "Ains?" Her mind spun as the implications of him shortening her name started to work its way through her heart. 

All her life people had tried to shorten her name and call her either 'Ains' or 'Lee.' She let very few get away with it - for the most part only her older brother. But something in the way Sam said it was different, endearing and it made her heart jump in her chest. Or maybe it was just that it was him saying it. 

"Sam, you're my friend. You don't need to thank me," she said softly, smiling into the phone. "I'll see you when you get here." 

"Okay, Bye Ainsley." 

Fifteen minutes later, the part of herself that Ainsley considered the most sensible was spinning with the ramifications of her earlier feelings and impulses. Her reactions had been much stronger than she'd been prepared for, stronger than if Sam was just a friend like she'd been telling herself. 

Having pulled on a pair of blue jeans and socks, she grabbed her favorite natural, cable-knit oversized turtleneck from the closet and tugged it over her head. Dropping onto her bed, she ran her fingers through her still wet hair. 

"What are you doing?" She asked herself. "This could be bad, really bad." It could be really good - it could be great, a tiny voice whispered in her mind. "It could be incredible, " she smiled while acknowledging the possibilities. 

She knew she liked him. She looked forward to their debates, even the ones that could easily pass for arguments. Hell, she?d baited him into most of them. Like when she?d reversed his position, instead of the simple summarization he?d requested. Then there was the whole State of the Union fiasco. She was sure everyone one on the set had known she had, at the least, a crush on him based solely on how she greeted him. And then there was the whole Bossa Nova in a bathrobe. She?d tried not to think about what might have happened if the President hadn?t shown up. Actually, she just tried not to think about it all together. 

Truth be told, she'd known this coming for a while now. 

It was the sound of the door buzzer that brought her out of her musings. 

* * * * * 

A quick glance at the clock revealed told her it was just after Noon, and that Sam was at least half an hour late. Jumping up, she walked quickly to her door and hit the intercom. 

"Sam?" 

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry I'm late. Got detained." 

"It's okay. Come on up. My apartment is to the left on the second floor." 

Quickly, Ainsley removed the chain and unlocked the door. "Okay, let's not do anything stupid. The man's had a really bad week, had his reality shaken up, he needs stability, not more upset - so no going all weird on him. Just be his friend," she whispered to herself before opening the door and leaning against the door jam to wait for him. 

She could hear him climbing the stairs, the rhythmic thudding, like he was taking them two at a time. As he turned the corner, she got her first view of him dressed casually in jeans and leather coat. 

She could have sworn her heart actually skipped a few beats when he looked up and smiled brightly at seeing her waiting for him. From a distance he looked happy, and she felt a warmth flow through her seeing that expression on his face. 

"Hej Sam," she called as he came closer. When he was halfway to her, her heart skipped a beat for a second time - this time, however, it was due to the invisible force that seemed to tighten around it. The constricting sensation in her chest caused entirely by the sadness that was well masked in his expression, but clear - at least to her - in his eyes. 

She found herself forcing her smile to remain in place while not reaching out and wrapping her arms around him. She stepped back and allowed Sam to proceed her into the apartment, turning her back to him momentarily while closing the door. 

Ainsley mentally schooled herself, fought the desire to comfort him and pushed down the sudden sense of anger at whatever or whoever had caused such sorrow in Sam. For as long as she'd known him, she'd never really seen him in such a state, and that in and of itself was unnerving to her. 

"Let me have your coat, Sam." Ainsley called as she turned to face him. 

Silently she watched as he pulled off his coat and handed it to her. Taking it, she quickly hung it in the closet before gesturing toward the interior of the apartment. 

"So what do you want for lunch? I have some Rotisserie Turkey we can use for sandwiches, or we could do tomato soup and grilled cheese? I'm not sure what else I have." 

"Turkey sounds good. So what did you have in mind for dinner?" His tone was conversational with his usual cheery inflections. 

"Not sure," Ainsley said as she started pulling food from her refrigerator. "Do you want tomato, mayonnaise and lettuce?" She asked, looking up from a crouched position in front of the fridge. 

Sam was leaning against the counter watching her, a small but genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, sounds good." Moving toward her, he reached down to take the items from her, "Here, let me help." 

'This is ridiculous; all we did was brush hands. I'm acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. Get a grip!' Ainsley mentally chastised herself, but she couldn't deny the tingle that ran through her at the simple touch of Sam's hands as he took the food. 

"Sam, what happened?" Ainsley asked a bit tentatively as she rose and walked the few steps to the opposite counter. She glanced over at him, waiting for his reply, as she busied herself taking plates and utensils from their respective places in her kitchen. 

Sam turned toward the counter and busied himself with removing the turkey from the plastic container, opening the mayonnaise and plastic wrap from the lettuce. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ainsley. Nothing happened, not really - aside from the fact that I found out my whole damn life has been a lie." He sounded like he was stating a fact, more sad and resigned than bitter. 

Grabbing the rye bread from her breadbox, Ainsley deposited it with the other food items and moved to stand next to Sam. Reaching out, she brushed her hand against his arm. "Sam," she began, her voice expressing her sadness over the situation. 

"Don't. I don't want your pity. I just . . ." He said, his voice hinting at the anger and pain that lay beneath the surface. 

Ainsley turned him forcefully with the hand that still rested on his arm, the fingertips of her other hand moved to cover his lips gently. 

"I don't pity you, Sam, at least not in the contemptuous sense." She paused, dropping the hand from his lips. "Do you remember the night I told you that I couldn't stand one more disappointment from the White House? Did the fact that we were barely acquaintances - and not really even civil ones stop you from feeling compassion for me?" She waited for his reaction, a subtle nod and slight smile, before continuing. "Then why is it so hard to think that I could feel pain for you? That I might want to do something to help ease it? You have a good heart, Sam - a big heart. I don't like seeing you get hurt, even unintentionally. 

Stepping away from him, Ainsley grabbed two mugs from a cabinet and set the on the counter. "I think we need hot chocolate," she stated jovially as she pulled a gold container and a steamer out of her pantry. 

"Hot Chocolate?" 

She looked over at him, smiling. She could read the question that was clearly expressed on his face - how did we go from pity to hot chocolate? 

"When I was little, my mom always made me hot chocolate when I had a bad day or something hurt me and we would talk it out. When I hit the evil teen years, she would make me hot chocolate when she thought I was hurting. It was her way of saying she was there when I needed her, when I wanted to talk, without pressuring me. It always made me feel better. It still makes me feel better, even when I make it for myself. I think you need some hot chocolate, Sam." 

Sam shook his head, a small, amused smile on his lips. "Tha . .," he paused, placed the knife he'd been using on the counter and walked over to where Ainsley was standing preparing the hot chocolate. Gently, he turned her toward him and enveloped her in a hug, briefly tightening his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, before totally releasing her and returning to his former place at the counter. 

"Uh, Sam?" Ainsley asked pleased, but bewildered. 

"I figured you'd hit me if I said 'Thank you' again - so . . ." 

"Oh, okay." She replied, smiling to herself as she turned back to the metal pitcher containing the milk and powdered chocolate. Ainsley allowed her mind to wander while she steamed and frothed the mixture. Her body tingled from the brief embrace. Her smile widened as she recalled the feel of his hard body against hers. 

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked, trying not to laugh 

Ainsley turned toward him. He was leaning casually against the counter watching her with a bright smile, one that reached to his eyes. 

"What do you mean?" she replied, even as her body betrayed her. She cursed her fair skin as the telltale heat spread through her body, and she prayed he didn't notice the blush she was sure colored her entire body. 

"Sandwiches are ready." Sam mercifully changed the subject. 

"Why don't you take them into the living room. It's easier than cleaning the work off my table. Go on, I'll bring napkins and the hot chocolate." 

They both settled into opposite corners of the sofa, eating in amicable silence. 

"My mom called. That's why I was late." Sam said. 

"How is she doing?" Ainsley asked conversationally, wanting to ease some of the pressure off of him. 

"She says she's fine. She's not. She can't be." He paused, sipping the hot chocolate. "It just," he paused, searching for the words to complete his thought, "I started thinking about Lisa. One day we are planning our wedding, the next she's calling it off. She couldn't understand how I could give up my partnership to work for Barlett's campaign. I always wondered why my love wasn't enough. Why weren't we enough?" 

Ainsley could hear his voice growing tighter as he talked, his final words barely a whisper. She could see the pain of old wounds resurfacing mingling with the fresh hurt as his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. 

Taking a deep breath, Ainsley placed her own mug and plate on the coffee table. Sliding over next to Sam, she tucked her legs underneath her to be on eye level with him. Gently, she took the mug from his hand and placed it on his plate. Turning back to face him, she saw the depth of pain that this situation was causing him and felt her eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Tenderly, she wiped away the few stray tears that had escaped his eyes, then reached out to gather him in her arms. Time seemed to cease as her perceptions narrowed down to just Sam. She felt his body gradually relax against hers. Felt his arms snake around to hold her body as the dam finally crashed down and he let himself finally cry. 

Ainsley wasn't sure how long they had remained like that, or when exactly Sam's tears had stopped. She'd been content to just stay where she was hold onto Sam. The fact that he'd felt comfortable enough with her to let go like that had endeared him to her even more. Kneeling there, holding him in her arms, she'd realized just how easy it would not only to love him, but to fall in love with him. 

* * * * * 

"Lasagna." 

She felt him pull back slightly, but not completely out of her arms. She sat back a bit, raising her eyebrows questioningly. 

"When I was younger, my mom would make me plain lasagna to celebrate or when I was sad. It was my favorite food." Sam said in explanation. Reaching over, he pulled her legs out from under her. Sinking back into the corner of the sofa, Ainsley felt him pull her with him, tucking her against his body. "I hated all the vegetables and meats my father liked in it." 

"I think I can handle lasagna." She said half into his shoulder. Tilting her head back so she could look into his face, she continued enthusiastically, "Do you have a lasagna pan? If not, I have one. What about salad? Do you like Caesar salad?" 

"Caesar salads good. I like Caesar Salad." Sam laughed, leaning his head down to whisper closer to her ear. "Can we have garlic bread, too?" 

Ainsley tapped him playfully on the chest, then shifted to look up at him again. 

She felt the soft touch of Sam's hand along her cheek moments before his lips descended, brushing delicately against hers. Instinctively, her hand moved up his chest, curling around his neck as she pulled her body against him. The feel of his hands caressing her back and hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Pulling away slightly, Ainsley broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensations elicited from her body by his touch. 

"I've wanted to do that for a long time. I almost gave in when I saw you dancing in that bathrobe." 

Her body still humming from the kiss, her mind still preoccupied with the sweet sensations that had swept over her, Ainsley was only able to groan in response to Sam's statement. Dropping her head, she collapsed against him, burying her nose against his neck and she moaned, "Please don't remind me of that night." 

She felt his arms wrap around her tightly as he held her to him. Periodically, his hands would caress her back or her hair. 

"You know he didn't mean to upset you, right? I mean, he was just giving me a hard time. It amuses him. Besides, I was asking for it." 

Sam's arms grasped her waist and gently set her away from him. "You know that right? He respects you and I think he wants to like you, as well. He really wouldn't have bothered to go to your office that night, with everything that was happening, if he didn't." 

"You were asking for it?" 

"Yeah, well I kind of mentioned to him that you hadn't had the chance to meet him yet and that he owed me because I was right and he was wrong." 

"You told him that? You said that to the President of the United States." 

Sam looked sheepishly at her, "I also might have told him, when he asked what he should say to you, that he should tell you that you weren't hired because you were a blonde republican sex kitten." 

"Sam!" Ainsley cried, hitting him playfully on the chest. 

"Sorry?" He said, meekly. 

Ainsley laughed. "Just for that Mr. Seaborne, I get to pick one of our movies this evening." 

"I guess I can live with that." He said, nodding and smiling. 

Ainsley smiled back at him unconsciously. She could feel how relaxed and content he was from the contact that remained between their two bodies. And his smile was genuine, reaching clear to his eyes. 

On impulse, she leaned forward, embracing him in a tight, but brief hug. Moving back quickly, she placed a light kiss on his cheek before jumping off the sofa. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to his feet as well. 

"Come on, we got shopping and movie renting to do," she said rapidly as she walked to her closet and pulled out both of their coats. Tossing his to him, she added, "And you still haven't answered my question." 

He looked at her, bewildered. 

She laughed and rolled her eyes, "Lasagna pan, Sam, do you have one?" 

"Oh, yeah. Got one. Haven't used it in years, but its in my kitchen somewhere." 

"Okay." She answered, snatching her purse from the table beside her front door. "Let's go," Ainsley chirped, turning to him to show him out the door. She was just about to close the door, when she thought of the gold jar of Ghirardelli chocolate, and the milk steamer sitting she'd left on her counter. 

"Be right back," she called, dashing back into her kitchen. Quickly, she placed the jar and the steamer in a paper tote bag. 

"Forgot something," she said as she locked her door. 

She walked down the hall of her apartment complex. When she reached the stairs, she realized that Sam wasn't behind her. Looking back, she saw him standing halfway down the hall, just watching her, an intense expression on his face - one she wasn't familiar with. 

"Sam?" 

He smiled and slowly walked toward her, stopping just inside her personal space. Ainsley could feel her heart rate escalating as their eyes locked on each other. She smiled when she felt him weave his finger with hers and squeeze her hand. With gentle pressure, he pulled her along with him down the stairs, not saying a word. 


	3. Thoughts and Conversations

Conversation Series: Thoughts and Conversations  
by Gigi aka Saimhe Author's Notes:   
Series starts the evening of "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail" - This is a Sam/Ainsley story. Part three of the Conversation Series. 

It hadn't taken Sam long to grab three movies he wanted to see from the New Release section of Blockbuster and to find "Somewhere in Time," the movie that Ainsley had requested. He pulled into the parking lot a full fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet her inside the grocery store. 

Turning off the engine, he left the battery on to power the radio. Slumping back into the seat, and just listened. With his eyes closed, he let his mind go blank. Within seconds, images of Ainsley flooded his mind. He saw her trying to entice him to dance. He saw her leaning on the desk outside his office, her eyes sparkling mischievously. He saw her smiling at him from her doorway, and he saw the sadness in her eyes when she recognized his pain. 

His mind slowly registered the song playing softly over the radio and he laughed. His dreams had been broken, and there she was standing beside him and he hadn't seen it until now, when it was hitting him over the head. 

He'd known he was attracted to her; there was no doubting that. He liked her, he supposed he always had, he'd just needed to get past his hurt pride before he could admit it. What he wanted to know now was if what he saw in Ainsley was genuine. What he needed to know was if the strength of the emotions pulling at him were unaffected by the events of the past five days. Or were his mind and heart just trying to fabricate something out of a good friendship to replace the disillusionment? He hoped not. 

He'd been surprised by her phone message the night before, even more so by the concern and compassion he heard in her voice. No, that was wrong. He'd expected her to be concerned since they were friends. And he knew she was a compassionate person. It was his reaction to hearing those qualities in her voice that had surprised him. The fact that her voice had been a soothing balm to his aching heart was a pleasant shock. 

His first real coherent thought that morning had been to call Ainsley. He'd wanted to hear her voice. But Josh had been there and he hadn't wanted to deal with his questions. When Josh had left, Sam promptly called her. The delight that swept through him when he'd heard her sleepy hello had stunned him. It shouldn't have, but it did. Recently, he realized, he'd been happy more and more to hear her voice or to see her. 

Sam smiled, recognizing the signs that he'd been falling for her long before his world went to hell in a hand basket. 

He'd felt so comfortable with her at her apartment that morning. He'd found immense pleasure in performing mundane tasks, like making lunch, by her side. Truth be told, it had even felt good, liberating, to be lose his control with her. It had been a relief to discover that he could be a cranky jerk and she wouldn't run, that she would understand. He expected that from Josh, Donna and Toby, but he hadn't been sure how she'd react. 

And when he'd hugged her, it had just felt right to him, like a haven. 

He definitely hadn't expected to melt down in front of her. Usually it took quite a bit before he lost control over his "I'm fine" façade. It had taken 3 days of hiding from the pain of his father's betrayal, plus being "kicked in the teeth" by reality twice that day to get him to explode. Thank God Donna was a good friend, and that she was, well - Donna. Everyone else would have called him a jerk and not cared about what lay beneath the surface. Well, everyone, but Josh, Toby, maybe CJ and Cathy - and Ainsley. Okay, so the President and Leo would have cared - but there was no way in hell he would ever have lost it in front of them. 

And he doubted he would have cried in front of any of the others. 

This afternoon, all it had taken for him to be so completely undone was the tenderness in her expression when he finally told her about his mother's call. It had taken weeks of dating to feel as close to and as comfortable with Lisa as he'd felt to Ainsley. That scared him. 

Sam glanced at his watch and realized it was time to meet Ainsley. Pushing his darker emotions down, he cut off the engine and exited the car. 

Clearing the entryway, he veered to the right into the produce section and scanned the area for a certain blonde figure. 

It was her laugh that first caught his attention. Ainsley was standing by the lettuce display holding a head of Romaine lettuce in her hand, clearly paying more attention to the woman talking to her than the produce. 

He found his attention fixated on the graceful movement of her hands as she gestured while speaking; the way her head tilted to the side while listening to the other woman. He watched as she casually deposited the lettuce into the cart, moving over to grab a few cloves of garlic without taking her attention from her companion. 

He couldn't take his eyes away from her. His heart, body and mind warred over his desire to walk up and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to feel her body against his. He wanted to breathe in the scent of her shampoo. He wanted to hear her voice. 

"Control," Sam whispered to himself. He needed to take this slow. It was too important. Taking a deep breath, he started to walk toward her. 

Ainsley turned and looked over her shoulder and smiled seeing him. Her eyes glistened mischievously. "Hi Sam." She called. 

Standing next to her now, he allowed his hand to brush lightly against her back, knowing it would be harder, at the moment, not to touch her at all. 

"This is Lauren. She used to live next door to me. We were just talking about the yummy things in the produce section." 

'She didn't just say that did she? Oh god, look at her eyes. She has that look. Why do I get the impression they weren't talking about fruits and vegetables?' He shook his head. 'Two can play this game.' 

He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist and pulled her back against him. He was definitely going to enjoy this. "Oh, I agree." He lowered his head closer to her ear level and spoke in a voice that was soft and husky enough to be suggestive, yet loud enough so that he was certain that Lauren heard. "Do you have everything we need?" 

"Yes," she responded, a slight catch in her voice. 

Sam smiled. Looking up at Lauren, he extended his hand, "Nice to meet you." 

Lauren smiled back, "Nice meeting you. Ainsley - I call you." Sam could see that she was fighting not to laugh. 

"Yeah, okay. Bye Lauren." Ainsley managed as Sam directed them toward the checkout lanes, his arm still draped around her waist. 

* * * 

Ainsley unpacked and organized the groceries on the counter, her mind sorting through the events since leaving her apartment. Sam had been so sweet. A perfect gentleman, although considering his knight-in-shining-armor complex, it hadn't surprised her. The only time he'd been remotely devilish had been thanks to her own baiting. 

Ainsley smiled at the memory. She'd just gotten through explaining that she was helping a friend through a rough day when Sam had walked into the store. Lauren had just about melted. Teasing Sam had been fun as well. His expression had been priceless, not just for the amusement factor, but she'd seen the light in his eyes sparkle a little more. The trip through the line had been uneventful, and Ainsley had enjoyed the continued physical contact with Sam. 

"What can I do to help?" Sam asked. 

"Well, where do you keep the pots, pans - mixing bowls, utentils - things like that." 

Sam quickly moved around his kitchen, pulling things from various cabinets. 

"Don't tell me - you organized the kitchen yourself, right?" 

"Yeah, why?" He answered, confused. 

"Only a man would put a mixing bowl in the pantry, Sam." Ainsley laughed. 

Sam looked back at her sheepishly and smiled. "Yeah, well I only use it when I bake." 

It was Ainsley's turn to be surprised. "You bake?" 

"Don't tell anyone," Sam responded. He walked over, placing the mixing bowl on the counter top next to her. "One of my family's traditions. Mom and I would bake holiday desserts the night before the "official holiday." Dad would always work late, so it would be just Mom and me." Sam paused, as if realizing the implications of his statement for the first time, then continued trying to sound normal, "She taught me how to make King's Cake, Apple and Pumpkin Pie - and Sweet Potato Pie, that was always my favorite. Not really dessert though. We always had that with dinner." 

He was smiling, the memories were obviously good ones, but she could see the tainting of the happiness in his eyes. She felt her heart sink, wondering how many good childhood memories would be tempered now with this new knowledge. The worst part was she knew there wasn't anything she could do to change it. 

Putting on a brave face, Ainsley teased him, "Well in that case, next time you are on dessert duty! I have never been able to match my mama's apple pie. I 'm beginning to think she is holding out on me." 

He gave her a half-smile, which she returned. Grabbing the large pot from the stove, she quickly filled it three-quarters to the rim and placed in on the burner, set it to medium-high and added a bit of salt and olive oil. She checked her watch to mark the time then turned back to Sam. 

He'd stepped back to give her room and now leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed casually across his chest. She could tell he was doing his best not to get too dragged down. She wanted to hug him and tell him it would be okay, that she would be there - it just wasn't her place. They were friends, and maybe they could be more. But they weren't there yet. 

Reaching out, she took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "So what movie do we watch first?" With a gentle tug, Ainsley pulled him out to his living room. 

"What do you think - Remember the Titans, . . ." 

The phone rang. Sam groaned and walked over to check the caller id box. "It's Josh," he said. 

"Well answer it, Sam. I'll leave you alone." Ainsley replied, squeezing his hand before releasing it and walking back to the kitchen. 

* * * 

Sam watched her walk away. The phone rang again and he flipped the cordless phone on. "What do you want, Josh?" 

"So is she there?" 

"She? Josh -" 

"Ainsley!" 

"How did you, oh god, what did I say?" He whispered. 

He could hear Josh laughing at the other end of the phone. "I'm not saying a thing. If you don't remember, I'm not telling!" 

"And just how is it that you remember any of last night?" 

"O'Doul's. Remember, Donna - Ms. Don't Let Josh Have Any Fun - was there. She only let me have one real beer." 

Sam laughed at that. "So, what do you need?" he asked, trying to avoid the original question long enough to get through the French doors that led to his balcony. 

"Sam. Ainsley, is she there?" 

"Yes, she's here. Why?" 

"So??" 

"So, what's going on??" 

"Nothing is going on, Josh." 

"Yeah, right. Spill it my friend. You like her, don't you?" 

"She's my friend, Josh, that would imply that I like her." 

"That's not what I mean." 

Sam turned around, leaning back against the railing. From his vantage point, he could catch a few of Ainsley's random movements. From what he could tell, she looked like was dancing, well, more like keeping time to music as she went about preparing the food. 

"Sam?" 

He heard Josh, but at that moment Ainsley walked out of the kitchen with a mug in hand and set it on the table. Sam found himself captivated by her movements. He groaned softly when she turned, giving him a view of her backside as she walked toward the hall closet. 

"Oh, Sammm? Buddy!" 

As she disappeared around the corner, Sam's muttered to himself before replying to Josh with a laugh, "She's great, Josh. How did I not notice it before?" 

Just then Ainsley reappeared, his jacket slung over her arm. Passing the table, she picked up the mug and continued to walk toward him. 

Sam could hear Josh snickering and the muffled sound of his voice - like he had his hand over the phone. He heard a minor scuffle and laughed, Josh had obviously dragged Donna in today as well. 

"Samuel Seaborne, don't screw this up! She likes you." 

Yep, Donna. "Screw what up, Donna?" He asked, fighting the laughter. He could hear Josh's muffled, "What, you aren't going to tell him the signs?," in the background as he stepped forward to open the door for Ainsley. 

He watched her place the mug down on a patio table and then hold his coat out to him. 

"I don't need to tell Sam the signs. I'm sure He can figure them out for himself." Sam heard Donna shoot back at Josh. "Now, Sam - is Ainsley there?" 

"Uh, yeah, right here. Hold on." He said, half amused, half perplexed. "Donna wants to speak with you," he said, holding the phone toward an equally bewildered Ainsley. 

"Hi Donna. What can I do for you?" Ainsley asked while pointing to the mug with an expression on her face that clearly indicated - "Drink - Now." 

He watched her as she nodded, occasionally looking over at him. When he saw her shiver slightly, he put his half-full mug down, then reached out and pulled her against him. Feeling her relax against his body, he closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and enjoyed the sensation of sharing his warmth with her. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at her when he felt her turn around in his arms without moving away from him. She was smiling. 

"No, It's okay. Actually, would you like to meet for a late lunch tomorrow? We could talk more then." "Yeah, okay. 2 o'clock. I'll see you there. Bye, Donna." 

She held the phone out to him, "She's going to let Josh back in his office now. I'm going to finish the lasagna." 

Sam wasn't sure if it was impulse or instinct, he just acted. He tightened his arms around her and lowered his lips until they met hers. The kiss started gently, tentatively. It felt his heart pounding in his chest as she responded, deepening the kiss as she wrapping her arms around his neck. 

He broke away when the muffled sound of Josh's voice over the phone drifted to his ear. Reluctantly, he reached up and took the phone from Ainsley's hand, which was still wrapped around his neck. 

"Josh, hold on for a minute, okay?" Sam said, not giving Josh a chance to speak, he hit the hold button and tossed the phone to a nearby patio chair. 

Wrapping his arm back around Ainsley, he smiled. 

"You should finish your conversation with Josh. I should go finish dinner." Ainsley said softly, smiling brightly. 

Sam held her tighter and rested his forehead against hers. 

"Sam." Her voice was soft, beckoning him to look at her. Gently, she reached up and caressed his cheek, her face fairly radiated love back at him. "Talk to Josh. I'll finish dinner. Then we talk, okay?" 

He nodded and released his hold. She remained for a few seconds, smiling at him before stretching up on her toes to kiss him briefly, twice. Then she stepped away, back to the door. She turned once to smile at him and for a second he thought she was going to say something. 

Instead, she gestured toward the phone before stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind her. 

Picking up the phone, Sam hit the hold button again. 

"Josh?" 

"Yeah, buddy?" 

"Help?" Sam said, his voice raising an octave. 

"Sam?" 

"I kissed Ainsley. I mean I really kissed Ainsley. It felt good Josh, the don't-ever-want-to-come-up-for-air kind of good. I wasn't about to throw her down on the ground or anything, I . . it just . . . " 

"Sam, you're rambling. I get the idea. Look . . ." 

Sam anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, waiting for Josh to say something. 

"Do you want some backup? I mean, Donna and I could come over later, run interference." 

Sam took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone else around. He hadn't felt like he had to pretend anything with Ainsley. On the other hand, he didn't want to push things too far, and while she didn't seem too upset by anything that had happened today - quite the contrary actually - he really didn't want to destroy a good thing before it really got started. 

"I'll call you back in a minute, Josh. I need to talk to Ainsley." 

"Alright." 

"Josh, thanks." Sam said, then turned off the phone. 

Picking up the mug that had been sitting ignored on the table, he walked into his home, heading straight for the kitchen. 

He could see Ainsley placing her cell phone back in her purse and walking back over to the mixing bowl. 

"Ainsley?" He asked, leaning against the edge of the wall. 

"Hej Sam. Finish talking to Josh?" She asked, continuing to mix the cheese in the bowl. She was putting on an "everything's normal" front, but Sam could hear the tightness in her voice. 

"Yeah, well, kind of. I told him I would call him back." Sam walked over to stand behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

Her motions stilled instantly. He quickly pulled back his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure what else he could say. 

Ainsley turned around and looked at him. "You have nothing to feel sorry for, Sam. I am the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have let myself get carried away like that. I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen." 

"You didn't want that to happen?" Sam could see the hurt in his voice reflected in her eyes. 

"No, Sam. I mean . . ." she sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she stepped forward and closed the distance between them. "I wanted to kiss you Sam. I didn't want you to be hurt again. I admit, I find you attractive. Not like I could deny it now, anyway. But first and foremost, you are my friend and you've been hurt. Your life's been shaken up. I wanted to be here for you, be your friend and now I've totally bungled it by kissing you on your balcony. I just wanted to be the kind of friend you needed." The last part was whispered brokenly, and Sam could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. 

"In case you are forgetting, I kissed you - and not for the first time today either." He said, gently brushing the tears from her cheeks. "And you *are* my friend." He let his hands fall to her shoulders, "You are exactly what I needed today. You've been supportive all day, you were here when I needed you, no questions asked. The thing is, I think I want to be more than friends." 

Ainsley looked up at him, "Sam?" 

"I like you, Ainsley. I realized today that I've had feelings for you for a while. I've just been to stubborn to admit to them." He paused, "It's just . . Can we take this slow? I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to lose you as a friend." 

Ainsley smiled, then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I think I can handle slow," she said. He slipped his arms around her, hugging her back and lifting her feet from the ground in the process. 

Ainsley laughed, "Okay, you can put me down now, Sam." 

"No." 

"You need to call Josh back." 

"No, I don't. He can wait." 

"Sam, he is probably driving Donna up a wall. Call him back." 

"Okay. Ainsley?" 

"Yes Sam?" 

"Can I invite him to dinner?" 

"I think that is a very good idea, but only if you include Donna in that invitation." 

"Okay." 

"Will you put me down now?" 

He took a deep breath, then released his grip allowing her to slide down his body. "I'm going to call Josh now." 

"Okay. I'm going to finish making dinner. Then maybe we can watch one of the movies." 

Sam smiled, and watched her work. Picking the phone off the counter where he'd discarded it earlier, he tapped in Josh's direct line. 

* * * 

"I'm telling you, Josh, the Redskins need to get rid of Deion Sanders. He has in NO WAY earned his salary." Sam said, shifting unconsciously to accommodate the woman sleeping by his side. He slipped his arm around her, brushing his fingers along her shoulder. 

Looking down at her, he smiled. She looked so lovable - irresistible - curled against his shoulder. Not for the first time that evening, he considered what an amazing woman she was. She'd prepared dinner, chatted companionably with Donna and played the perfect hostess. Somehow, she even managed to show up with a smile, a quick, baiting retort or simple touch just when his mind would start to wander, just when he needed the reassurance. 

"Yeah, well with any luck, he won't re-sign." Josh answered, his voice slightly hushed. "So?" 

Sam sighed, hearing the unspoken question in his friend's voice. He'd been trying to keep a conversation of random topics going, to hold off the inevitable. 

"Are you sure about this Sam?" 

Sam grinned and he laced his fingers with hers where they rested above his heart. 

"Yeah, Josh. I really think I am." He said softly. 

He felt Josh's concentrated stare and knew what his friend was looking for - signs of uncertainty. 

Sam felt his whole body release a tension he'd been unaware of when Josh leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied and shifted his attention to his assistant. Sam glanced over Ainsley's head to see Donna curled up in the opposite end of the sofa, sound asleep. 

"Think it was the conversation?" Sam asked, amused. 

Josh laughed as he rose from his chair and grabbed a blanket out of small chest that sat beside the sofa. Sam watched quietly as Josh gently covered Donna and stroked her hair as she settled into the added warmth. 

"Josh?" Sam heard Donna whisper, half-asleep. "What time is it?" 

"Just after midnight. I should probably get you home." Josh responded softly. Sam smiled secretly when he noticed that Josh's hand caressed Donna's leg as he spoke. 

Sam heard Donna shifting her position and then muffled mumbling as Josh pulled her to her feet. 

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty." 

Sam glanced down again at Ainsley sleeping against him. He hated to move her, but manners overruled desire. Carefully, he pulled his body out from under her, propping her against one of the sofa cushions. 

Walking to his foyer, Sam retrieved coats, exchanged thank yous and goodnights then watched to make sure they reached Josh's car safely. With a final wave, he closed and locked the door. 

Quietly, he walked back to the living room and crouched down beside the sofa to watch Ainsley sleep. She looked so peaceful that he hated to wake her. Instead, he watched her, and let the feelings of belonging and peace that had been missing for so long from his life begin to take their place again. This time, he chose not to question the source of the emotions. 

He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she smiled sleepily at him. He gladly took her offered hand and resettled himself beside her at her unspoken request. Sam heard her contented sigh when she'd gotten comfortably curled against him again. 

"Josh and Donna left?" She asked, stifling a yawn. 

"Yeah, a few minutes ago. Josh wanted me to tell you he expects you to cook for him more often. He thinks we should make this a regular thing." 

"Really?" 

Sam smiled at the uncertain hopefulness in her voice. He tightened his arm around her shoulder, hugging her to him. "Really." He said, and then placed a soft kiss against the top of her head. 

"I enjoyed it, too, Sam. It reminded me of home, of my family. We used to do family dinners on Fridays. I haven't been to one since I left," Ainsley said, trying to suppress another yawn, "for college." 

"Okay - bedtime for Ainsley. There is a big, comfy bed in my guest room just for you." Sam teased as he stood and pulled her to her feet. He suppressed a laugh at the pout on her face before pulling her against his chest and gathering her face in his hands. Leaning down, he kissed her softly before pulling away to see her smiling at him, her eyes sparkling. 

Ignoring caution, Sam leaned into her again, feeling her arms wrap about his neck as their lips met. His skin tingled where her fingers brushed against the skin at the back of his neck and head. Sam groaned, pulling Ainsley tighter against him as the sensations triggering a deeper stirring. 

His hands drifted down her back, cupping and massaging her bottom as he held her against him. He tasted the wine that lingered on her breath when her lips opened and he felt her tongue brush against his. 

Time slowed, and Sam wanted nothing but to feel her against him. His hands began to trail back up her body, slipping under her sweater to feel the silky warmth of her skin. 

"Ainsley." He whispered, as he kissed the side of her neck. 

"Yes, Sam?" Ainsley asked, as she shifted her body against his. 

The sound of her voice, hushed and breathless, nearly stole the last bit of control Sam had. One hand journeyed up her body, stroking her stomach lightly as it moved up between them and caressed the underside of her satin-clad breast. 

God, he wanted to touch her, feel her skin against his. 

"Sam?" Ainsley moaned, "Is it too late to change my mind about taking this slow?" She pulled back from him, her hand drifting to lift his chin so their eyes would meet. 

Even with his muddled mental state, Sam immediately noted her kiss-swollen lips and how the flushed skin on her face set her passion-darkened eyes off like jewels. He felt his heart thudding in his chest as he struggled to control his breathing. 

"Dear God, Ainsley, please don't tempt me!" Sam moaned, still unable to separate his body from hers. He felt her drop her head to his shoulder. 

** ** ** ** 

Ainsley felt him set her body away from his and groaned at the loss of contact. Taking an additional step back, she let her eyes roam over his body. The undisguisable effects of their activity on his body were immediately noticeable, and she felt herself smile, raising an eyebrow. 

"Ainsley, have mercy. Not the grin, please." 

"The grin?" Her grin widened as she teased him. 

Ainsley was surprised when Sam suddenly grabbed her, twisting her around until her back was pressed against his chest and his hands crossed under her sweater against the bare expanse of her stomach. She doubled over instinctively, shrieking and laughing where his hands brushed sensitive ticklish spots just under her ribcage. 

"Well, isn't this interesting." He laughed as he continued to tickle her. 

Eventually, Sam stopped his assault and Ainsley felt her body begin to relax as she caught her breath. 

"If I say 'Thank You,' will you please not hit me?" 

Ainsley felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. "Yeah, I think I can let you thank me this once." She responded to him teasingly. 

"Thank you, Ainsley. Today was good, better than good actually. I'd say today was great." 

She felt his arms tighten around her again in a brief hug and found herself admitting that she liked the feel of his arms around her almost as much as she liked to kiss him. 

"You're welcome, Sam." She said, sincerely. Titling her head back, she gave him a gentle, brief kiss. 

"Okay, Guestroom for you, Ms. Hayes." Sam said, turning her around and holding her at a slight distance with his hands on her shoulders. Gently, he pushed her toward the stairs. 

As they reached the stairs, his arm slipped around her waist. Ainsley happily reciprocated, wrapping her arm securely around his waist. Smiling, Ainsley leaned her head against his shoulder as they climbed the stairs together. 


End file.
